<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>the way light means more by NewTrueBlue03</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30117036">the way light means more</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewTrueBlue03/pseuds/NewTrueBlue03'>NewTrueBlue03</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>RuPaul's Drag Race (US) RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/F, Gen, M/M, Pining, Stargazing, denali lowkey pretending to be elsa, ish</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 01:15:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,475</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30117036</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewTrueBlue03/pseuds/NewTrueBlue03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since she was a little boy, Denali had felt a deep connection with the solitude of the night.<br/>When she meets Rosé, she cannot shake the feeling that there is a sense of familiarity about her. </p><p>An exploration of Denali's connection with nature.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Denali Foxx/Rosé</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>63</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>103</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey hey! Super stoked for this second fic. As per the summary, this is just a bit more of a character study of Denali's relationship with the Alaskan wilderness (in relation to her relationship with Rosé, of course).</p><p>TW: Some swearing.</p><p>(SPOILERS)<br/>I definitely wrote it as a way of coping with the last episode..haha. Hah. (ouch, that was heartbreaking)</p><p>The fic/title is inspired by Gregory Alan Isakov's song, "Words". It's absolutely gorgeous, so do yourselves a favour and give it a listen.</p><p> </p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Words mean more at night</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Like a song</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And did you ever notice, the way light means more than it did all day long? </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Cordero had always liked the evenings the most.</p><p>Even as a child, he relished in the quiet solitude of the late hours. There was a sacredness in a world at sleep – an intimacy with it that would melt with the sunrise.</p><p>When he was seven, he developed a bi-weekly ritual.</p><p>He would lie awake in bed, waiting for his parents to turn off their light across the hall. He would then quietly push the covers off his body, carefully creep downstairs, and put on his winter boots.</p><p>In his boots, pyjamas, and his mother’s too-big down coat, he would sneak outside and sit on the snowy front steps of his house.</p><p>With snowflakes gently caressing his young crown, he would listen.</p><p>With nothing but the sound of winter wind murmuring through the streets, he sometimes felt like he could feel the Alaskan snow whisper to him and him alone, with no one else to hear its secrets.</p><p> </p><p><em>Cordero, this snow is </em>perfect <em>for snowballs. Your sister won’t know what hit her tomorrow. </em></p><p>
  <em>Hey love, that outdoor rink on the lake in town will be ready to skate on in a week. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Did you know that it will blizzard tomorrow? Better layer up, kid! </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>This led him to occasionally share his secrets back.</p><p>On days where his feet were sore and his knees were bruised, he would be especially conversational. <em>Will I be great?</em> he would ask. <em>I work so hard, but I still fall so much with every jump I try. </em></p><p>The wind would howl back, <em>Sweetheart, don’t ask me. You already know you are a star. </em></p><p> </p><p>In a few hours, he would wake up for practice with a smile on his face. He would overhear his coaches commenting on his fast progress to his mother, and he would glow from the praise as he sliced through the ice.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The first thing that Denali noticed about Rosé was <em>wow, HAIR. </em></p><p>The second thing she noticed was the way that she spoke.</p><p>There was an ease in the way she chose her words. Every quip left her mouth like an exhale.</p><p>Where Denali’s humour was crude and goofy, Rosé’s was responsive and precise. In this and in many other ways, they soon found that they complimented each other and became fast friends.</p><p>Denali soon discovered that Rosé’s way with words extended beyond witty banter. She also was deeply intuitive with people and knew how to use her voice to diffuse seemingly impossible situations. Wielding it like a knife, she would cut through conflict with calm logic and an empathetic hand. As somebody who had always been slightly uncomfortable with confrontation, Denali was in awe. It was another quality of Rosé’s that made her feel safe in her presence.</p><p>It was no wonder why she had immediately gravitated towards the older girl in her moment of vulnerability before the acting challenge’s lip-sync.</p><p>As soon as she pulled her aside, however, she immediately felt even more exposed under Rosé’s concerned stare. She found herself looking anywhere but in her eyes.</p><p>“I don’t know what it is about you, but I just can’t look at you,” she admitted.</p><p>            Rosé brought a tissue up to Denali’s face and guided it back to meet her gaze. “You don’t have to look at me. You know why?”, she said. Denali shook her head in response while looking into her friend’s green eyes, so sure and so strong. “Because you’ll have plenty of time to look at me,” Rosé assured.</p><p>Shakily but with returning confidence, Denali responded, “<em>I </em>know I can make it to the top.”</p><p>            Rosé had smiled at that. “I know you can too, baby.” She then paused for a moment, as if contemplating the right words to say, before leaning forward and adding, “You know what to do.”</p><p>            Denali had nodded through the tears, feeling a renewed rigour stir in herself. As they stepped back on stage, she caught herself reciting an internal mantra: <em>You already know you are a star; You know what to do. </em></p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>There were few quiet moments in the long filming days. Denali loved her sisters, but ten hours spent with incredibly extroverted &amp; incredibly <em>loud </em>drag queens could be a bit fraying on her nerves.</p><p> </p><p>This is how, after the third week of being safe in a row, she found herself considering her old ritual. After de-dragging, having dinner, and showering off the day, she sat by the open hotel window with a cup of tea in hand. It was nice, but the noise from the hotel AC drowned out any sounds from outside her window. Feeling frustrated and suffocated, she contemplated her options.</p><p>She soon found herself opening her hotel door and sneaking down the hall towards the fire escape stairs. She knew that the crew was fast asleep by this hour, and was willing to take the minuscule risk of breaking contract for the sake of her sanity.  </p><p> </p><p>The warm California breeze filled her lungs as soon as she opened the rooftop door, and she felt a wave of relief crash over her from the fresh air. She propped open the door with her sneaker to prevent it from closing and found a seat a couple of paces away. The experience was not quite the same as back at home; The hard metal of the roof and city sounds of LA did not hold quite the same magic as her snowy seat on her front porch. However, from up here with the city laid out before her, the lights reminded her of the constellations she would count in the winter sky.  </p><p>She had engaged with her ritual a couple of times since she was a child. The wind no longer spoke to her as an adult as it did when her head was full of juvenile imagination, but she would still share her secrets with it; It had always been a good listener and never seemed to need words to know just what to say back.</p><p> </p><p>Tonight, she had a few secrets she felt she needed to get off her chest.</p><p>She started with her frustrations from the challenge this week. After three weeks of being safe and feeling overlooked by her fellow queens, the competitor in her was itching for validation, or at the very least some recognition. Admittedly, she was feeling a bit insecure, especially in the wake of some of the other queens’ comments during the reading challenge. <em>They are just scared of you, my dear,</em> the wind would have said.  </p><p> </p><p>Her confessions then wandered deeper - scenes of brilliant smiles, easy words, and broad hands on the small of her back.</p><p> </p><p>Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the rooftop door creaking open. She startled and began scrambling towards a structure to hide behind in fear of production finding her, but relaxed when she saw Rosé’s face coming through the door. The other girl’s face held initial surprise and concern upon seeing her, but it then soon broke into a grin.</p><p>            “Bitch, did you really think you’d be able to hide you being up here with your fucking <em>sneaker </em>wedged into the door like that?” she teased.</p><p>            Denali flushed, both by her friend’s comment and by feeling caught in her thoughts. “Shut up,” she laughed, “I’m not going to go and get myself stuck up here!”  </p><p>            Rosé laughed in return, “I would pay good money to see Mama Ru’s face as she found out she had to kick you out because you decided it’d be cute to <em>stargaze </em>during Drag Race. Like can you imagine?” She gave her best imitation of RuPaul’s stoic enraged face. “Denali, you may be a stargazer, but you are not a star for the gays. I’m sorry my dear, sashay away.”</p><p>            Denali rolled her eyes in mock exasperation, “Oh my god, you’re <em>so </em>annoying, girl.”</p><p>            Rosé sat down beside her and nudged her in the shoulder. “I’m just teasing, baby.”</p><p>            Denali nudged her back, smiling. <em>I know. </em>They sat in content silence for a minute, overlooking the city together.</p><p>            After a while, Denali felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise. She glanced over and saw that her friend was studying her with that same penetrating gaze as before. Rosé quickly returned her gaze back to the horizon.</p><p>            Denali suddenly felt self-conscious again – like her prior fantasies had been written all over her expression. But before Denali could ask her if there was something on her face, Rosé spoke.</p><p>            “So what were you doing up here, being all sad and emo by yourself?” she asked.</p><p>The question caught Denali off-guard. Out of fear of sounding insane (“Hey, yeah, I was just chatting with the wind and potentially thinking about you. No biggie,”), she reserved the truth. Instead, she deflected and gasped in mock offence, <em>“Emo? </em>Can a girl not get a bit of fresh air and enjoy the view?”</p><p>Her friend raised a disbelieving eyebrow at this. “Yeah, emo. You should have seen your face as I found you. You looked <em>real </em>into your emotions.”</p><p>“Into my <em>emotions</em>? <em>Somebody’s</em> feeling nosy tonight,” Denali responded with no real bite. “No, I was just getting some fresh air.”</p><p>            Rosé raised her hands up in defence. “Ok, girl, if you insist!” After a moment, she then added, “But seriously though. If you want to talk about anything on your mind, I’m here. You know that, right?”</p><p>            Denali’s chest warmed at the sudden sincerity. “Yeah, I know, I know,” she said. Her hand reached for the other girl’s, and she squeezed it in gratitude. “…Thank you, Rosie. And you too.”</p><p>            Rosé intertwined their fingers and ran her thumb over her knuckles. “Of course, baby.”</p><p>            Denali sighed and rested her head on her friend’s shoulder. Rosé leaned into her in turn, and together they settled into another comfortable silence as they soaked in the carpet of metropolitan sprawl before them.</p><p>            “So I have to be <em>nosy </em>myself,” Denali said, breaking the moment, “Why did you take the risk and come up here too?”</p><p>             “You know, just decided to get some ‘fresh air’”, Rosé responded, and winked down at her friend. Denali stuck her tongue out at this.</p><p>Rosé then took a breath as if she was going to say something else, but paused. When Denali looked up, it looked like her friend was in contemplation about something. She eventually said, “I don’t know, I just felt like I needed some time with the night, you know? ...And I may have thought I heard your footsteps go by my door. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” She then quickly added, “and, also make sure you weren’t doing anything fun without me.”</p><p>            Denali grinned up at her, “Awww, Rosie, you were worried about me?”</p><p>            Rosé smiled at that and squeezed her hand as a non-verbal response. “But yeah, I just really wanted to take in the evening in its full form, and the hotel window just wasn’t cutting it. Do you get what I’m saying?”</p><p>            Denali just nodded against her shoulder, suddenly feeling lulled by her friend’s voice. “No, yeah, I get what you mean.”</p><p>            They leaned further into each other and settled into another silence. Through the light pollution, Cordero could see the vague outline of Ursa Major up in the sky. He followed the dipper’s scoop, and there it was, <em>Polaris</em>, the North Star<em>. </em>This close, he could feel Ross’s heartbeat in his neck and hear Ross’s soft exhales as they brushed against his cheek. When Cordero closed his eyes, he could almost feel the cold wind whisper into his ears.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>And though I write them by the light of day, please read them by the light of the moon. </em>
</p><p>           </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks so much for reading! It would mean the world to me if you left a kudo/comment if you enjoyed the read (or if you didn't! Constructive criticism is welcome). Your feedback is truly so valuable to me.</p><p>Also, let me know if you'd be interested in reading more chapters! I intended for this to be a one-shot, but could potentially see expanding it into a multichapter fic.</p><p>Cheers, and thanks again!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Of teenage angst, lost connections, and shared rituals.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Y'all were so kind and generous with your comments for that one-shot, so I was inspired to make this a multichapter. With the story I've sketched out, I'm thinking maybe around three to four chapters, but we'll see where we go from here. </p><p>Thank you so much for all the love! </p><p>So here you go, another chapter filled with more star imagery. </p><p>TW: Some blood, a bit of internalized homophobia in the first bit, and some swearing. </p><p>And of course, while this story is based upon reality, it is 100% fictitious. I see the Denali/Cordero and Rosé/Ross of these works as inspired by, but separate from the people that exist in real life. I'm trying to do my best to respect the boundaries of our beloved queens while also using this space for creative expression. I felt it necessary to say this for this chapter addition in particular, as it gets a bit more "personal". Any feedback for respecting these boundaries more effectively is welcome. </p><p>With all that being said, please enjoy! :) </p><p>Intro lyrics from "If I Go, I'm Goin'" by Gregory Alan Isakov. Oh yeahhh, we're working through a discography with this fic, baby.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>And if I go I'm goin' shameless, I'll let my hunger take me there. </em>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Denali’s first time drinking had looked a little bit like this: Stumbling home on the frigid streets of Fairbanks, with rum and coke doing little to hide the bitter taste of shame. A walking vignette of adolescent confusion and spite.  </p><p>He had left the party early – there were too many mistakes he left in his wake, and he could not stand to sit in some corner of the same space that occupied his regrets. He was cold, so cold, yet he could not go home yet. Not like this, with the scent of alcohol and another’s lips hot on his breath.</p><p> </p><p>Teeth chattering, he pulled the down coat closer around his shoulders as he trudged on. His own coat - at fourteen years old, his mother’s no longer fit over his broadening shoulders. In any other time, he would have longed for the old coat’s scent, but in this moment he was grateful for her mother’s absence from this spectacle.</p><p> </p><p>He walked on along the sidewalk for what felt like forever. Yet halfway through forever, he failed to observe a patch of ice on the sidewalk. Grip lost and balance inhibited, he soon found himself on his back with the taste of copper in his mouth.</p><p> </p><p><em>Of course it was the fucking ice, </em>he thought bitterly. Recently, he had also been feeling the pressure of his skating practice double down on him – just another layer of stress to add to his ever-growing pile. He ran his tongue over his cracked lip, which had split from his teeth biting down upon impact with the ground.  Moments from earlier that night came flooding back to him.</p><p> </p><p><em>A quick and messy crush of the lips. </em>He felt something blooming in his chest at the memory.</p><p> </p><p>The kiss had simply been a joke for attention, but to Cordero, it suddenly meant more than its punchline. He recalled that his father had always said cruel jokes were grounded in a bit too much reality.</p><p> </p><p>On his back like this, the star-speckled sky was presented before him. <em>If somebody found me like this, I could just say that I was stargazing. </em>He giggled at the thought, a loopy grin spreading across his face. Here he was, now making jokes to himself. Were his thoughts always this funny, or was he just wasted?</p><p> </p><p>It felt as if every constellation in the winter sky winked at him for this thought; Like a familiar friend sharing a joke.</p><p>Feeling daring and a bit playful, Cordero did his best to wink back. (He was only half successful.)</p><p> </p><p>Suddenly, a band of light streaked across the sky in response. <em>A shooting star. </em>Cordero gasped, brown eyes wide. He then quickly snapped them shut and made a wish.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Dear…you. Please, I’m so confused. Please explain everything I am feeling. Tell me that it will be alright. </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>He waited for a response. The wind whispered in his ears but said nothing.</p><p> </p><p>When he opened his eyes, a kaleidoscope of stars overwhelmed his senses. He felt the pressure of tears build behind his temple but quickly swallowed it down. The silence in the air was deafening. He wanted to scream. There was an urge to run deep into the woods until he was in a place where nobody knew his name.</p><p> </p><p>But he was fourteen years old, and he suddenly missed his mom more than anything. So it was at this point that he got up on his two shaky knees, and began to make his way back home.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>From that night after <em>Bossy Rossy </em>and onward, the ritual became shared between the two of them. They would not go up every night – that would be far too risky, and besides, on most nights they needed their full sleep. But on the nights they needed the escape, they would both know, and communication would be made in some form of another. Some days it was in the form of a knowing and a nod as soon as they left the werk room, some days it was a squeeze of a held hand on the bus ride back to the hotel. Never was the exchange through words – that was far too risky. Besides, words were hardly necessary between the two of them at this point.</p><p> </p><p>They would wait until production was long absent from the hotel halls. Denali would always be the first to go; With ginger footsteps, she would walk by Rosé’s door and lightly tap on its wood. She would then ascend the staircase, wedge her sneaker in the door, and wait. These minutes laying in wait were always the most exhilarating to her.</p><p>What production found her before Rosé did? What if the sneaker slipped, and she was left to her own devices to climb down from the roof? Or, what if Rosé never showed up, and left her to sit alone under the sky with her thoughts?</p><p>It unnerved her how the lattermost thought filled her with the most dread, even though she had spent nights in solitude with the stars many times before.</p><p> </p><p>But, like clockwork, Rosé would always come through a few minutes after her, opening the door with a lazy smile upon her face.</p><p> </p><p>The whole ordeal reminded her of high school – waiting under the bleachers for his friends when they decided to play hooky during fifth period. There was an adolescent recklessness to the act. Rosé made her feel reckless in that way.</p><p> </p><p>Some nights, they would debrief the events of the day. This would be their time to vent. They would gossip about moments in Untucked, rant about the judges’ comments and decisions, and share their own fears and anxieties about the competition. Denali relished in these sessions, as it provided some much-needed mental and emotional release for both of them. Yet these were not the conversations she cherished the most.</p><p> </p><p>For there were other nights where the two of them just <em>talked</em>. They talked about everything, beyond and before the set of Drag Race. Every night, Denali learned something new about Rosé. She had no favourite meal, though if she had to choose, she was partial towards a good New York slice. Her favourite movies were comedies. She was a dog person, but also did not mind cats as long as they were dog-like. (“Dog-like? Like your face?” Denali had teased. She really couldn’t help herself sometimes, and it was worth it to see the look of mock-offence on her friend’s face. “Well clearly, <em>you’re </em>the bitch here,” Rosé had responded.)  </p><p>Rosé also loved music with such a deep passion, Denali could see it simmer under her words whenever she spoke on anything to do with it. In fact, that passion, Denali was slowly discovering, was the underlying current in of Rosé’s whole being. She cared so deeply and earnestly about the people and projects in her life. Denali could not help but hang onto every word that her friend said.</p><p> </p><p>With every one of these new discoveries, Denali found herself in the process of unravelling as well. She surprised herself with how quickly she intuitively <em>trusted. </em>There were countless moments where she caught herself sharing parts of her world that she had only shared with her most intimate relationships.</p><p> </p><p>            Like tonight, as they laid their backs on the cold hotel rooftop shingling, heads next to each other, staring again into the abyss of the light-polluted sky. They were on question seventeen of a game of twenty-one questions, and it was Denali’s turn to ask.</p><p>            “Ok, Bro<em>-</em>sé, I have a good one for you, but you have to answer honestly,” she said with a tone of utmost seriousness.</p><p>            Rosé snorted at her friend’s tone. “Alright, give me your worst.”</p><p>            “If you had to choose,” Denali said, pausing, for dramatic effect, “what superhero power would you have?”</p><p>            Rosé turned her head and raised her eyebrows at her friend. “Girl, seriously?”</p><p>            “Rosieee, don’t be lame!” Denali whined. “I wanna know. Just answer the question.”</p><p>            “No, no, it’s not that the<em> question</em> is lame,” Rosé explained, “it’s just that there’s only one right answer.”</p><p>            “Which is?”</p><p>            “Flying, duh.”</p><p>            Denali paused. “…Huh.”</p><p>            “Well, what would you have said?”</p><p>            “Probably like…ice powers, like Elsa.” She mimicked some of the Disney princess’s dramatic hand movements with accompanying sound effects.</p><p>            Rosé laughed, “Figures. Also, you’re a huge dork.”</p><p>            “No, but like, now that you mention it, you’re kind of right, flying <em>is </em>the best.” Denali looked up to the sky. “Sometimes skating feels like flying, so it would be sickening to have that feeling all the time.” She looked over at her friend, who was looking at her with a grin on her face. “What?” she asked.</p><p>            Rosé turned her head back up to the sky. “Yeah, I know my opinion was right, thanks for confirming,” she responded.</p><p>            Denali laughed, “Ok, you cocky bitch.”</p><p>            “You love it, girl,” Rosé said, which, to be fair, Denali <em>did. </em>“Ok, my turn to ask. First kiss. Actually, no, first kiss with a boy<em>. </em>Go.”</p><p>            Denali froze, suddenly feeling memories rushing back. It was so long ago, she could hardly remember the actual kiss beyond a brief meeting of flesh. More than that, she remembered the taste of copper and the feeling of being so, <em>so </em>mind-numbingly cold. Even more than that, she recalled a moment of disconnect – the sound of her shifting out of some cosmic alignment reverberating like a deep crack on ice’s surface.</p><p>            <em>I remember searching for an answer from an old friend. You sound like them, </em>she heard a deep part of her say, but that answer would not do. Feeling her friend’s gaze of anticipation slowly turn to worry, she quickly answered, “I was fourteen and suuper drunk. At the time it was just some dumb joke, but, well,” she gestured to herself, “here we are, doing gay shit.”</p><p>            “Fuck yeah, gay shit!” Rosé exclaimed jokingly, though she snaked her hand down to meet Denali’s and gave it an understanding squeeze. Denali’s heart skipped a beat. “Literally my ‘first’ story is the same, though I was thirteen.” She winked at Denali. “She’s an early bloomer.”</p><p>            Denali gasped. “Scandalous.”</p><p>            And with that, they moved onto the last three out of the twenty-one questions.</p><p>   </p><p>            For the rest of the night, however, Denali felt as if there were some things that she had left unsaid. But what was there to say? How can you tell someone their words remind you of a voice that you lost long ago?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. interlude</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"What's done in the dark will come to light."</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The ground was shifting beneath their feet.</p><p>While the sound of it was quiet, Denali could hear it in the spaces between her breaths.</p><p>She could feel her magnetic poles reorienting.</p><p>            She could see it in the way that, almost unconsciously, she would find herself by Rosé’s side without fail. And, if she moved away, she could always trust that she could turn around and find Rosé looking back.</p><p> </p><p>            She recalled a conversation she once shared with her mother.</p><p>            There was a night, many summers ago, when their family had rented a metal bonfire pit and set it up in their backyard for the Fourth of July. Cordero’s father had cut logs upon logs of wood, which allowed them to keep the fire going strong all night. They had stayed up all night, basking in the embers until their stomachs were sore from the laughter and s’mores.</p><p>            The next morning, Cordero came downstairs to find his mother busying herself with piles and piles of soot-covered laundry. When she saw him, she gave out an overwhelmed laugh and said, <em>“Mi amor, </em>let this be a life lesson to you. <em>‘Por tanto, todo lo que habéis dicho en tinieblas, a la luz se oirá.'</em>”</p><p>           </p><p>            Nowadays, when Rosé smiled at her from across the workroom, she could almost smell the smoke from last night’s fire soaked into her shirt.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A short meditation.<br/>Longer chapter on its way :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Of song, rhythm, and story.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for your patience! I know I promised this one soon after the last chapter's brevity, but this chapter took a lot longer than expected. And, it BECAME a lot longer than expected. Oh jeez.<br/>Anyways, I hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So I am now <em>sprinting</em> down to the dance floor, looking absolutely insane in my half drag, elbowing people left and right-“</p><p>            “Wait, the club was <em>full?</em>” Denali asked.   </p><p>            Rosé gave her a pointed look. “Baby, they were coming to see <em>us</em>. Of course, it was full.”</p><p>            Denali shrugged. “<em>I </em>certainly wouldn’t have guessed that’d be a case for a show of yours,” she teased.</p><p>            “Oh my god, you’re so dumb, just let me finish the story,” Rosé laughed. “Ok, so I’m running through this crowd and I can hear Lagoona <em>screaming </em>from the fire in the change room and like, people are starting to look <em>worried, </em>girl. Like Jan had one of her face crack moments and was taking out <em>all </em>of her emotions on her sister. Like full-on – “, she mimed cheesy horror movie stabbing, “- and, who could blame them, you know?”</p><p>            Laughing, Denali said, “Jannifer would kill you right now.”</p><p>            “Ok, so clearly you get what I mean! I love her, but that girl’s got a homicidal streak that is triggered by the word, ‘safe’.” Rosé then looked mischievously at her friend, and added, “and, I guess you could probably relate to her on that level.”</p><p>            Denali had to take a moment before her eyes widened in realization. “You <em>bitch!” </em>she exclaimed, slapping her friend’s arm playfully. Rosé laughed a full-body laugh as she fended off her friend’s battering hands.</p><p>            “Anyways, so then, I see it.”</p><p>            Through giggles, Denali asked, “Wait, see what?”</p><p>            Rosé paused. Then, with a flourish of her hands, she whispered, “The fire extinguisher.” Denali rolled her eyes at her dramatics, but her smile betrayed her amusement. Rosé continued, “And so I lock eyes with that extinguisher like it was the hottest piece of ass at the club, and I make a beeline towards it. But.” She paused again.</p><p>            Denali looked at her friend expectantly. “But?”</p><p>            “…You know what happens, just as I’m about to smash open its case and save the day?” she asked.</p><p>            Denali raised her eyebrows. “What happens?”  </p><p>            Rosé locked eyes with her friend, and with the utmost seriousness, said, “The motherfucking. Sprinkler system. Goes off.”</p><p>            Denali gasped, <em>“No!”</em>, and brought her hand up to her mouth.</p><p>            Rosé nodded. “<em>Yes, </em>baby. The fucking sprinkler system. Anyways, it goes without saying that a drenched drag queen is just a <em>man</em>, ma’am. So we had to cancel our whole set! And all because some girl thought it’d be cute to light a cig in <em>our </em>change room, near <em>our </em>wigs.” She looked back up towards the sky. “And my love, that doesn’t even come <em>close </em>to being the worst gig we’ve had,” she concluded.</p><p>            “Wow,” Denali breathed out, winded from the laugher that was still in her lungs.</p><hr/><p>Rosé was a natural storyteller. She intuited the rhythm of narrative – when to speak quickly and excitedly, and when to slow down and punctuate her words. Some of Denali’s most treasured moments in the workroom were when she and her sisters were all getting into mug, and raptly listening to Rosé as she rattled on about a past night of her’s. Other girls would interject with tales of their own, but Denali’s attention was held most when her friend’s voice was the centre of the stage. For even for the most mundane of recounts, Rosé spoke her stories in a formula; Like a song, there were verses, a bridge, a climax, and a resolution. <em>The minor fall and the major lift. </em></p><p>            Denali found it no coincidence that this aptitude was translated from her friend’s musical gifts. And, inevitably, it was when Rosé sang that her storytelling shone the truest. And, did she <em>sing</em>, not only well, but <em>often. </em>She would sing in the new day; she would sing to express her annoyance; she would even sing to announce that she was going to the bathroom. She also knew every word to every popular song and would act as the human jukebox to replace the girls' lack of Spotify. These were songs she would share with the rest of the girls, to add a stroke of brilliant expression to the morning.</p><p>            But it was the songs that Rosé sang for herself that Denali loved more. Sometimes, if Denali was listening closely enough, she could hear her friend humming a tune to herself – a soft, intimate melody. It was so consistent that Denali could trust on it like she trusted on the rhythm of the waves on the hull of her boat. Whenever she needed to be grounded, all she had to do was listen. Denali could hear it best in the night, when it was just the two of them. There would be moments of silence that they’d share, which Rosé occasionally would fill with her soft humming. Denali did not think that Rosé was even aware that she sang in these times.</p><p>            There was one tune in particular that Rosé often returned to in these spaces between conversation. Denali recognized the melody from some movie, but she could not put her finger on the song’s name. She thought it might have been a love song.</p><p>(But perhaps that was just her projecting.)</p><p>There was one night where her dinner was running late to her room. She had to wait for a while longer in her room before receiving her meal from an assistant. Because of this, she ran a few minutes late to their rooftop meeting. When she arrived at the top of the rooftop stairs, she found that another sneaker had already been wedged in the doorway. She made a move to open the door but paused when she heard Rosé’s voice as her friend sang to herself. She took a moment to listen as the private melody drifted through the crack of the door.</p><p><em>“City of</em> <em>stars, are you shining just for me?”</em></p><hr/><p>Denali's mind returned to her days on the seas. </p><p>It was strange, having a set routine every night. Skating the same moves, fighting the same pretend battles, and coming to the same happy ending in less than ninety satisfying minutes. In and out, until his sore muscles and plastered smile were on autopilot. Such was the cruise life – with the constant influx and outflux of passengers, they could afford to keep their programs more or less consistent from week to week. It certainly made for easier work for the skaters, as they did not have to worry about memorizing and perfecting new routines. For this, Cordero was grateful. Their high-paced schedule and lifestyle was exhausting as it was.</p><p>            But there were moments on the ice where he longed for something more tangible to connect to. So, when the program failed to do so, Cordero would create new narratives for himself to explore.</p><p>            One night, he’d be a young child, finding the joy of the ice for the first time in front of the crowd of one hundred. The next night, he’d be a temptress – she knew all the eyes on her wanted to feel her touch, and she relished in their hungry gaze as she preened across the stage.</p><p>              In a given week, he’d be hopeful, heartbroken, exuberant and exalted. How wonderful it was to be anybody and everybody if he so chose. To tell of a thousand lives by the twist of an ankle and a flick of a fingertip.</p><p>She imagined how Rosé must have felt, to have that power at the tip of her tongue. </p><hr/><p>It was the night after the Rusical when Denali asked her, “Rosie, what’s that song you’re always humming?”</p><p>            Rosé, who was lying down beside her with her eyes closed, peeked one eye open at her friend and said, “Baby, you’re gonna have to be more specific.” She had a point – Rosé was <em>always </em>singing or humming, so she probably went through a whole Spotify account’s worth of songs in a given day.</p><p>            “You know, the one that you always hum <em>up here</em>,” Denali tried. “Like the one from that one musical, I think. The one with Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling. La La La? Is that what it’s-“</p><p>            <em>“</em>La La La? You mean La La<em> Land??”</em> Rosé interrupted, sitting up. She looked at Denali incredulously and then burst out into laughter. </p><p>            Denali couldn’t help but join her in a fit of giggles – it was infectious, despite the twinge of embarrassment she felt.  She then retorted, “fuck you, <em>sorry </em>I’m no theatre geek like you. Yes, that one from La La<em> Land. </em>What’s the song called?”</p><p>            Still laughing, Rosé wiped the tears that were gathering in her eyes and said, “Holy. shit. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. But babe, <em>La La La! </em>I mean come <em>on.</em>” She chuckled, coming down from her high. “Hmm, does it go like,“, she cleared her throat and sang, “<em>City of stars, are you shining just for me?” </em></p><p>The sudden purity of her voice’s melody caught Denali off-guard. It always did, no matter how many times she heard it.</p><p>“Well?” Rosé asked.</p><p>“…Yeah, that’s the one,” she responded, more softly than she intended. She looked up at her friend, observing how the fluorescent rooftop lights created a halo that lined her friend’s breeze-blown hair.</p><p>Rosé smiled down at her, her eyes searching her face for a moment. She then turned and looked at the city. “Yeah, I guess I was singing that unconsciously. It always gets stuck in my head whenever we’re up here. You know, ‘cause,” she gestured towards the lights.</p><p>Denali followed her gaze out upon the Los Angeles skyline. Millions of lives, all with hopes and dreams, passions and heartbreaks, all winking back at them from their homes. She was once again reminded of constellations and cold winter air. “Makes sense,” she said.</p><p>“Why do you ask?” Rosé implored.</p><p>Denali paused. If she was being honest to herself, she wasn’t quite sure why she asked. So, she said, “It sounded nice, I was just curious.”</p><p>Rosé sighed. “It’s a nice song, isn’t it,” she said softly.</p><p>“Can you sing it for me?” Denali blurted out. She immediately felt blood creep up into her face.</p><p>Rosé stared at her for a moment. She seemed surprised by her friend’s sudden request.Rosé then said, slowly and with apprehension, “I mean, sure? You know your girl loves any chance to sing.”</p><p>Denali looked at her dumbly. “…Oh. That’d be nice.” She wasn’t sure whether she should feel relieved or not by Rosé accepting her request. There was a beat where the two of them stared at each other, unsure of what to do or say next. Denali could have combusted in the sudden awkwardness of the moment.</p><p>Rosé seemed to notice the tension in the air, because she then jokingly added, “But I ain’t gonna perform for free. I only sing for tips.” She gave Denali a challenging look. “So, how are you going to pay me in kind, baby?”</p><p>If Denali’s face had been red before, she now felt like she could have fried an egg on her cheeks. Her eyes immediately flickered down to Rosé’s lips, spread in a crooked grin. <em>How are you going to pay me, baby? </em>But she was Denali Foxx, and she was not one to back down from a challenge. So, she channelled the heat settling her stomach into her retort. When in doubt, deflect vulnerability with innuendo.</p><p>“Well, Rosé, what is it that I could give you that you could possibly want?” She said sweetly, looking up through her lashes. If she wasn’t watching her friend’s face so intently, she would have missed how, for a moment, Rosé’s mischievous smile had faltered. The tectonic plates crackled below them dangerously.</p><p>            The confidence in Rosé’s smile returned, and the world shifted back to stasis. She then said, “Got any cash on you?”, and they were laughing together again, the moment prior abandoned.</p><p>            Denali then had an idea. “How about…I dance for you?” she said. “I can dance to your voice – art in exchange for art!” It had been weeks since she had choreographed, and she longed for the feeling of expressing her body in that way.</p><p>            Rosé considered the proposition. “I hardly consider this rooftop guerilla performance as art. But that’s cute, I kind of dig it.” She added, “Corny, but cute.”</p><p>            “Oh, you know you’ve got your corn <em>queen </em>present, girl,” Denali teased as she stood up to stretch. “Move aside, it’s your <em>corn </em>Denali!”</p><p>            Rosé’s laughter was explosive. Denali felt pride glow in her chest. “’<em>It’s your corn Denali</em>’ – that’s so <em>dumb!”</em> her friend squeezed out between laughs.</p><p>            Because Denali really could not help herself, she added, “I’m cold as ice and I’m <em>in</em> a tamale!” She paused to look at Rosé. “Get it – cause <em>corn? </em>And <em>tamale? </em>Tamales have <em>corn in them?</em>” A toothy grin spread across her face.</p><p>            “Aaalright,” Rosé deadpanned, though the amusement that twinkled in her eyes betrayed her tone.  “Ok, ok, enough joking, twinkle toes, I wanna see you dance to some motherfucking <em>musical theatre!”</em></p><p>            Denali groaned in mock exasperation. She did a lazy boxy and step-touch, and said, “Am I musical-ing right?”</p><p>            “You’re hopeless, babe,” Rosé said. “You’re never gonna get into Juilliard.”</p><p>            Denali offered up her best jazz hands. “How about now?”</p><p>            <em>“Fine,</em> but only because you’re cute,” Rosé teased. “Anyways, let me know when you’ve got your giggles out and are ready for me to start.”</p><p>            “Ok, ok, sorry.” Denali stopped her antics and settled her body in a relaxed position. “Ok. Ready.” She looked back at her friend and saw her smiling back at her. The ground shifted again. She licked her lips out of self-consciousness.</p><p>            There was a moment before Rosé began.</p><p>            <em>“…City of stars, are you shining just for me?”</em></p><p>Denali started into action with a soft gesture.</p><p>            Rosé continued. <em>“City of stars, there’s so much that I can’t see.”</em></p><p>            Denali was now a young woman, blinded by the city lights. She walked gingerly to the rhythm along the lantern-lit downtown streets.</p><p>            <em>“Who knows?” </em>A twirl of her imaginary chiffon skirt. <em>“I felt it from the first embrace I shared with you,” </em>and a recline as she bared her neck to her lover. <em>“That now our dreams may finally come true.” </em>She slowly shifted her hips to the beat of a faraway piano.</p><p>            Rosé took an extra beat before starting the next verse. “<em>City of stars…”</em>, and Denali began with another soft gesture, caressing her own face gently. She waited for the next line, but it did not come. She looked at Rosé, who was now staring at her intently, brilliant green eyes burning holes into her chest. There was an unreadable expression upon Rosé’s face. Denali licked her lips again.</p><p>            “Why’d you stop?” she asked. She was surprised by how small her voice sounded. The question seemed to stun Rosé out of her trance. Her eyes widened, and perhaps it could have been a trick of the dark light, but Denali could have sworn that pink dusted her friend’s cheeks. Rosé swallowed slowly before answering. Denali’s eyes followed the movement. Rosé then quietly spoke. </p><p>            “I…forgot the rest of the words.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading!<br/>Did you love it? Did you hate it? If you loved it, please leave a kudo and a comment! If you hated it, please leave some constructive criticism, lol.</p><p>Seriously though, your comments and kudos are so valuable to me! So if you would like to see more, your feedback would be so appreciated.</p><p>Stay tuned for more if you enjoyed these past chapters! </p><p>Cheers,<br/>NTB</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>